Best of Friends

Remembering Brandon. If someone didn't toss the ball for him, Brandon would fling it up over his shoulder at the top of the St. Clair Reservoir and scramble to beat it down the hill, catching it on the way down and trotting back up to do it again, black plume of a tail wagging with pleasure. When early spring came around he'd visit the playground at the top of the Reservoir where the sandy basin was slow to drain. He liked to slop in, belly-deep in the icy water to fetch out the biggest cake of ice he could carry home. Miss you, Buddy.